


Audience Participation

by Cobrilee



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, someone else has to get involved for Oliver to realize he's being an idiot. Will be a series of unconnected oneshots. Variable ratings, variable characters, variable genres, variable lengths. Always Olicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I have been really struggling to write lately. I want to, but I'm just drawing a blank. I'm still working on chapter 12 of The Retreat, I promise, but I sit down and the words just won't come. I started on another piece that I'm really excited about, but that one is also going to end up being a multi-chapter beast and I just needed something that I could write up and be done with. So, here we are. I'm calling it Audience Participation both to fit the first chapter, and also because I want my readers to get involved. Message me prompts-a setting, a phrase, a couple objects to be included, whatever you can think of. If it speaks to me I will write it. Depending on how many I get and which ones get the creative juices flowing I may or may not be able to do them all, but if you send me something I will do my best.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Oliver grumbled as he settled into his seat beside Diggle. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around with a smirk of disdain on his handsome face. "This is all just an illusion, none of it is real."

Felicity poked his arm with a frown. "Stop being a spoilsport," she hissed. "This is supposed to be fun. Besides, how do you know none of it is real? Have you ever been hypnotized? Or have you just watched other people and rolled your eyes and assumed it was all an act?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, and she snorted as her point was proven. "Nobody can put someone else to sleep just by talking in a soothing voice, and then manipulate their subconscious to the point that they say and do ridiculous things. Every audience participation show is a scam. They have people planted in the audience who go along with whatever nonsense the performer is trying to sell."

Roy chuckled from Felicity's other side. "I bet you'd never volunteer to go up there," he teased. "Oliver Queen would never act like an ass in front of a huge group of people. Oh, wait."

Felicity and Digg choked on their laughter as Oliver scowled. "It wouldn't matter if I _did_ volunteer," he replied, shaking his head. "They'll only 'choose' one of their pre-determined participants."

She grinned mischievously. "We'll see about that," she murmured, and Oliver swung his gaze to her sharply. He didn't like the look on her face. It never boded well for him.

The lights in the theater went down and the audience began cheering and applauding as the headliner took the stage. Oliver sighed as the Amazing Alistair went into his routine, shaking his head in disbelief at the people who were buying into the fakery.

Felicity leaned into him. "You can't honestly tell me you think that woman is spilling at the dirty details of how often she masturbates and which of her toys are her favorites, and _not_ be hypnotized into doing it. No one would be that graphically honest in front of a roomful of strangers!" she whispered.

"What I can't honestly believe is that _you_ actually _do_ believe in this," he whispered back. "You're too intelligent and your brain is too science-minded to not see this is all a hoax."

She shrugged. "There are some things science can't explain," she acknowledged. "Brains are very complex organs and we're still learning a lot about how they function. Susceptibility to various forms of manipulation and control isn't unreasonable to believe in."

The person behind them made an irritated shushing sound, so Felicity straightened back up in her seat. The show continued on, and Oliver had to admit it was amusing. He still maintained it was completely staged, but regardless, the antics of the people 'hypnotized' were entertaining.

Then the Amazing Alistair called for another volunteer and before Oliver knew what was happening, Felicity was standing up and calling out in a loud, clear voice. "Oliver Queen would like to volunteer!" His jaw dropped and he hurriedly gestured for Felicity to sit down and shut up, but she grinned innocently at him as the audience around them began cheering and encouraging him to head up to the front.

Alistair spoke into the microphone. "By all means, Mr. Queen, we would _love_ to have you up here!" he said enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming. "I don't believe I've ever had such a distinguished, well-known volunteer before!" he mock-confided to the crowd, who roared their approval.

Oliver glared at Felicity as he stepped past her and Roy, who muttered, "Guess that kills your 'all the volunteers are plants' theory", eliciting a snicker from his _former_ friend. He trudged to the stage like a man walking to his doom. He would never admit it out loud, but he felt a prickle of unease that he'd been plucked from the audience with no forewarning. This guy must actually believe he would be able to hypnotize him.

But he wouldn't. He _couldn't_. Or at least Oliver was now desperately trying to convince himself that was the case.

He stepped up onto the stage and turned to face the audience, attempting to pick out his friends from the crowd. He was staring into overwhelmingly bright lights, however, and the faces before him were blurry from the halo effect. Alistair grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake, then invited him to sit down on the chair so they could chat for a few minutes, as the other volunteers had done.

"So tell us about yourself a little bit, Oliver," Alistair invited.

Oliver smirked. "I'm a billionaire," he said dryly, and the audience burst into laughter. "Former billionaire, actually," he amended. "You might have heard that Slade Wilson and Isabel Rochev took over my company and a large portion of my assets before their siege on Starling City last spring."

The crowd booed, and Alistair shook his head sadly. "Such a horrible time," he said somberly. Then he brightened. "What about something happy?"

Oliver hesitated. "I have some great, supportive friends," he said finally, and the crowd clapped.

"What about a lady friend?" Alistair prodded.

His eyes automatically sought Felicity out and this time, despite the lights, he was able to find her. "I'm too busy to commit to anyone right now," he said carefully. "But if I could, I would." He hoped Felicity understood the subtle message. Only something as important as his commitment to Starling could supersede his feelings for her.

The crowd "awww"ed and Oliver felt the corner of his lips curve up in a slight smile. He had to admit, he kind of liked the attention a little bit. It was the first time it wasn't negative. He wasn't the arrogant, spoiled playboy getting out of a drunk driving charge, or the irresponsible CEO who was letting Queen Consolidated go down the drain. It was just for fun, and it was kind of nice.

"Alright, Oliver, it's time to begin," Alistair said, and Oliver nodded, slightly nervous. "Are you ready?"

"Sure, why not?" Oliver returned, and Alistair chuckled.

"Close your eyes for me. I'm going to count backward from ten, and when I hit one, you're going to fall asleep. You will respond only to the sound of my voice. Ten, nine, eight, seven…"

In the audience, Felicity was sitting on the edge of her seat. She couldn't believe Oliver was up there, and now that he was, she was getting anxious. This had the potential to be very, very bad, and she was frustrated with herself because she hadn't thought of it before sending Oliver up there. She'd only wanted to prove a point to him and maybe mess with him a little bit, but there was so much in his mind that the general public shouldn't have access to. What if Alistair asked anything about the island? Oliver would be furious if he divulged anything he wasn't ready to talk about himself. Or if they touched upon anything related to the Arrow? He'd been a suspect at one point, what if Alistair brought it up?

Digg reached over and took Felicity's hand. "It will be okay," he said quietly. "If he starts to say anything he shouldn't, I can create a commotion to distract everyone."

Felicity brightened, pulling out her phone quickly and tapping rapidly. "Me too," she said with a sigh of relief. "I have the power grid pulled up and can shut everything down in less than a second."

Digg chuckled. "It should worry me that you can do all that through your phone," he teased.

She shrugged and grinned. "What can I say? Oliver's money buys a lot of advanced technology."

"He's asleep!" Roy whispered loudly, and they snapped back to attention. Alistair was going through the routine of telling Oliver when he woke up he would obey Alistair's every command and he would have no memory of anything he was about to do, the usual.

"Now, Oliver, tell me something that no one knows about you, and you would never want anyone to know," he demanded, winking at the audience, and Felicity tensed. Her finger hovered over her phone, ready to push the button the instant Oliver said anything incriminating.

"I wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was younger," Oliver said slowly, and Felicity relaxed. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles that the other members of the audience were erupting in. "I used to go with my parents and when I was ten, I told them I wanted to take lessons. My father forbade it. He probably wouldn't have if he'd known it was because I thought that was a great way to surround myself with women and I'd be sure to get laid all the time."

The crowd shrieked with laughter. Even Digg's shoulders were shaking, despite his effort to hold back the mirth, and Roy guffawed loudly. Felicity winced. Oliver was going to kill her when he found out what he'd said.

And done, apparently. Alistair coaxed Oliver into performing a few pirouettes and an arabesque. Felicity was so mortified on Oliver's behalf that she covered her eyes with her hands, peeking between her fingers so as not to get the full, embarrassing effect.

When Oliver had done a grand jete, Alistair allowed him to sit back down. He asked a few more innocuous questions that led to predictably amusing answers, then started digging a little more. "You avoided answering my question earlier about if you had a lady friend," Alistair pointed out. "Is there someone special in your life, Oliver?"

Felicity held her breath as Oliver nodded. "I'm in love," he said simply, and she exhaled slowly. She'd known, but she'd honestly never really believed. "I can't give her the life she deserves, but I will always wish I could."

The audience was quiet, somehow sensing that the story behind the statement was on the tragic side. Alistair murmured sympathetically. "What would you say to her if you could be totally, one hundred percent honest?"

Felicity's eyes were glued to the stage, but she felt Digg and Roy each take hold of one of her hands and grip tightly. She appreciated their support because she had no idea if she was ready to hear what Oliver had to say.

Oliver took a deep breath. "I would say, 'Felicity, you are the love of my life. I never knew what love was before I met you. After the island, I never believed that I would be able to fall in love, to be happy with someone. Then you burst into my life and I knew I was wrong. I'd had no idea what I was capable of, what was inside me, and you brought it all out. You are so precious to me that I will spend every day of my life denying myself the happiness you would bring me, in order to protect you from the danger that being with me would put you in. You mean so much more than my own happiness, and I will love you until the day I die.' "

The theater fell so quiet that Felicity's sniffles and muffled sobs were audible to every person in it. Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably, the previous levity dashed. "Oliver, close your eyes for me. I'm going to count back from ten, and when I hit one you will wake up and open your eyes. You will have no memory of what happened while you were on stage with me. Ten, nine, eight, seven…"

Oliver opened his eyes, glancing around in confusion at the somber faces and wondering at the hushed atmosphere. Previous volunteers woke up to uproarious laughter and good-natured teasing from Alistair. Instead, the hypnotist gazed at him pityingly and gestured that it would be okay for Oliver to leave the stage.

As Oliver approached his seat, he felt the sensation of what could only be described as a sense of anticipation. It was like the audience was collectively holding their breath while they waited for him to sit back down. When he saw Felicity's red-rimmed eyes and tremulous smile, he knew. He didn't know exactly what had happened, what he'd said, but he knew all the same.

"Felicity," he began, his voice hesitant, and she shook her head. She put her hand on his cheek, stroking it with her thumb.

"Close your eyes, Oliver," she commanded softly, and he did so without hesitation. Her arms slid around his neck; her lips pressed against his, warm and firm. His arms came up seemingly without his consent and wrapped around her waist, and he deepened the kiss while the cheers and applause of the audience sounded distantly in his ears.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips after breaking the kiss. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you push me away again. You do not get to make this choice for me. I have a say in my life, and I choose you. All the risks that come with it, all the danger, I don't care. I choose _us_ , and you better choose us, too."

Oliver knew better than to argue. He'd fought hard and long, and in the end, she won. He should have known it was a losing battle from the start. "I choose us," he whispered back. "For the rest of our lives. I choose us."


	2. Bacon and Legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This installment was written for the lovely lucawindmover on FFN, who requested the following: I'd like to see Oliver and Felicity having breakfast in her apartment after the first time they sleep together (I'd love for it to go horribly and they end up just having cold cereal out of coffee mugs or something, lol).

Oliver’s eyes opened slowly, his brain on alert before he even registered what he was seeing. All he knew was that he was in an unfamiliar environment; the sounds and smells weren’t right. The feel of the silky sheets that weren’t his own, the hair trailing over his arm that _definitely_ wasn’t his…

As the events of the previous night came rushing back to him, he relaxed back into the mattress. The blonde hair flowing over his skin belonged to the owner of the sheets and the bed, and the apartment with the sounds and the smells that weren’t right. He smiled as he recalled the two of them falling into the bed, their desire for each other having hit such a fever pitch that neither was interested in taking things slowly and sensually. At least not the first time. The next several times had been languid and loving, allowing them to explore the other the way they’d been craving for years.

His stomach growled and Oliver chuckled under his breath. They’d been so anxious to get to each other that dinner hadn’t even crossed their minds. He decided to surprise Felicity by making her breakfast, so he carefully dislodged the sleeping blonde from his chest. She curled into her pillow with a sleepy, wordless mumble, and he smiled with pure joy. He’d never thought they’d be here. He’d never thought he’d let himself accept the happiness she offered. Luckily for him, she got tired of putting up with his crap and had pulled him in, wrapped her arms around him, and never let go.

Oliver made his way into her kitchen, whistling tunelessly as he pulled out pots, pans, and food. He turned the pan on to pre-heat while he pulled the strips of bacon from the package and laid a paper towel over a plate, then grabbed the carton of eggs from the fridge. It wasn’t long before the bacon was sizzling and the aroma filled the kitchen. 

Unfortunately, Oliver had neglected to dress before his culinary escapades, and it had been so long since he’d made bacon that he forgot about the grease. The frying bacon popped loudly and several drops of grease splattered over his abdomen. “Son of a bitch!” he swore, dancing away from the stove and swiping at the smears across his skin. 

Felicity stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, but stopped suddenly when she saw a naked Oliver dancing like an epileptic chicken in her kitchen. “I have to be hallucinating,” she concluded. “That’s the only possible explanation for this.”

“Damn it,” he grumbled. “Do you have any salve or anything for burns?”

“I have aloe gel,” she offered. “Let me go find it.”

Oliver trailed behind her as she headed for the linen closet in her bathroom. She shuffled some things around before turning around with a beaming smile on her face, holding a bottle of blue goo. It was cold as she wiped it across his stomach, but very quickly he felt fire heating his blood. “Maybe we should forget breakfast,” he murmured, a slow, lazy grin crossing his full lips.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, and murmured back, “I could easily be persuaded.”

He slid his arms around her and pulled her in, deepening their kiss as her fingers reached up to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. Oliver was contemplating lifting her up onto the bathroom counter and taking her right there when a shrill beeping interrupted them.

“What the hell is that?” he asked irritably, and Felicity’s eyes widened.

“That would be the smoke detector, telling us the bacon is more than done,” she said wryly.

Oliver swore under his breath as he made his way back to the kitchen, quickly taking the pan off the stove while Felicity waved a towel at the detector. After another agonizing minute, the shrieking stopped and they both breathed sighs of relief. Felicity glanced down at the frying pan and winced. “I’m pretty sure that’s inedible, but thanks for trying?”

He followed her gaze and saw the bacon was curled up into black lumps, and he rolled his eyes and chucked the pan in the sink. “Okay, so the bacon is out. We still have eggs and bread.”

Felicity felt something funny inside at his use of “we”. “We sure do,” she agreed, her eyes twinkling. He gave her a questioning look but shrugged as he opened the carton of eggs. She grabbed the bread and slipped several slices into the toaster while he expertly cracked the eggs and the whites spread across the pan, turning from clear to white in a matter of moments. He was doing such a great job that it almost didn’t register when an egg slipped from his hand and landed on his foot, shattering and splattering all over his leg and the floor.

“God damn it!” he spewed, his frustration mounting. She had to hold back a giggle as she reached for a dish cloth to wet. He turned at the same time to reach for a paper towel and accidentally caught the handle of the pan with his hip. It swiveled around and spun off the stove before either could think to react. Both of them watched in dismay as the pan flipped and eggs flew across the kitchen.

“Why don’t you wipe up as much as you can with the paper towels while I go get the mop and cleaner?” Felicity asked with a sigh. Oliver nodded tersely and got down on his hands and knees to start cleaning, and she was struck by the ridiculous absurdity of the sight of the love of her life on all fours, naked, with egg all over his foot and calf, scrubbing at the tile. If it wasn’t becoming so frustrating, this comedy of errors would have Felicity in tears from laughing so hard.

She was rummaging through the cleaning supply cabinet when the acrid smell of something burning hit her nose. At the same moment she realized the toast was now burning, the smoke detector went off again. “My neighbors are going to kill me,” she groaned, grabbing the Pine-Sol and scurrying back to the kitchen.

The toast had popped up, black as charcoal, and Oliver was already waving a towel-white, she noted wryly-at the detector. It finally gave up its harsh scolding and Felicity and Oliver looked down at the mess in the kitchen. Broken eggs, black toast and bacon, and Oliver still covered in eggs.

“What do you think about going out for bagels and coffee?” Felicity asked casually. 

“Sounds like a great idea,” Oliver responded immediately. He made a face as he looked down at the egg matted in the hair on his leg. “But let me take a shower first, okay?”

She grinned impishly. “Do you need someone to help you reach the tough spots?” she questioned slyly. “I come highly recommended.”

He wrapped his arms around her and nipped at her lips. “I think I could be talked into it.”

Felicity grabbed his hand and tugged him into the bathroom, shedding her tank top and shorts in seconds. “Follow me.”

Oliver stepped into the shower behind her and bent down, pressing his lips to her ear. “To the ends of the earth.”


End file.
